Close Your Eyes in Terra Tropica
by The Goliath Beetle
Summary: "Of late, Stork was finding it harder and harder to relax."


**A/N: Never underestimate the power of boredom. C: Well anyway, today was a really nice day for me, since I did literally nothing. And since it's summer break, this little themed idea popped into my mind. Happy reading! **

* * *

Of late, Stork was finding it harder and harder to relax.

Yes, yes, he never found it easy to relax anyway. The Merb was used to being on edge, nervous, twitchy...But that hadn't really bothered him before. These days though, all Stork wanted to do was crawl under his bed with a saucepan or some other intrument of mass destruction, and hide from the world. He was using his trance helmet more and more, and each time, it seemed to help even less. _The law of diminishing returns, _he told himself, _that's what it is. The more often I need my happy place, the less satisfying its effects start to get. _

So when Aerrow had suggested they take a short vacation to Terra Tropica, Stork was horrified. "You might as well drink a glass full of cyanide," he spat, "Do you know the kind of diseases there are there? The amount of germs sea water carries?"

Stork was a germiphobe, and for good reason. Germs were invisible, deadly, and _everywhere. _Of course the others didn't appreciate the threat. All of them simply brushed it off, telling him that it would be fine. Sure, when they fall ill with Saltwater Viral Fever, he wouldn't take care of them. That was fair. (Of course he would. Stork knew that, deep down. He'd battle a lava worm for them—a whole herd of lava worms. But he preferred to ignore that soft, mushy, gushy, protective, silly and frivolous side of him. He had no time for it.)

The point was, there was no way he was stepping onto that beach. Even if Aerrow insisted he try and relax.

"I'm getting worried about you," Aerrow had told him simply. "You're really stressing over Cyclonia these days."

"I'll be fine as long as you don't make me come outside."

Aerrow gave him a look of utter disbelief. Even Stork couldn't ignore the unusually high pitch in his voice. Casting the Merb a final look of concern, the Sky Knight muttered, "Alright, fine. But if you change your mind..."

"I won't."

"Okay."

And with that, the red haired boy went to the beach too.

Stork just stayed in the Condor and sulked.

* * *

_Stupid boy. Worthless filth. Coward. "I'm getting worried about you." You'll never have any friends! Red angry eyes. Terror and hate. RUN! RUN! RUN! You'll never survive...You'll never survive...You'll never survive..._

Stork woke up panting. Ugh. Nightmares. He'd been having a lot of those. Telling the time of day from the colour of the sky, Stork pushed himself off his bed and groggily stumbled his way out of his room. It was late afternoon, and Stork was exhausted.

He hadn't been sleeping well. He hadn't been sleeping well for weeks now.

Every time he'd close his eyes, he'd have awful dreams—part memories, part fears. He could see them even in the mornings when he watched his friends eat breakfast, or stared out of the Condor's screen. He'd imagine them getting hurt, or dying. He'd imagine himself being killed. He'd picture the Condor falling into disrepair...Everything that scared him would attack him all at once, quite like the birds that haunt the bees.

One of the first things he noticed was the _silence. _How long had it been since he heard this sound?

For a moment, he wondered if this was one of his dreams where all his friends were dead, and he was the last one standing. The next moment, he wondered if this was the reality where all his friends were dead and he was the last one standing.

And then, like a wave crashing on the shore, it hit him that no, his friends were fine. They were outside, at the beach. But Stork still double-checked, gazing at them from a window of his parked airship. All of them were accounted for. So alright. They were okay.

His mind went right back to the silence.

It wasn't an awkward silence, or an angry silence, or the silence of the graves. It wasn't broken or depressing. It was simply there, a soundless noise, a testament to sanity. The ripples of volume that came from outside—laughter, breeze, the delicate rush of the tides—all bounced off the Condor's fine metal hide, encasing its only inhabitant in a protective hug of quiet.

He was suddenly aware of his every breath, and observed how they came in spurts of nervousness. He knew each soft footstep he took, each creak in the metal, every grumble of a hungry stomach. This was what he'd call anti-silence, the quiet of sounds. His heart danced in perfect synchronity to this music as he made his way to the kitchen.

The window was open and tropical air rushed in, claiming him as he opened the fridge. A combination of hot and cold confused his senses when the lukewarm room temperature argued with the mechanical chill of the refridgerator. He inhaled deeply, unconciously letting his body just soothe.

He took out a block of cheese and some bread, placidly starting to make a sandwich. Without warning, a small smile lit his lips. The smell of food was a great pick-me-up, entering his mind and erasing the last of the images from his nightmare. Having prepared a humble meal, he pulled up a chair and sat, just enjoying the peace.

Aromas of sand and sea tickled his nose, and the smell wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. The bread and cheese were cold, but he didn't care as another gust of warm air poured through the windows.

This one moment, this mindscape, was paradise. Nothing would happen to him here. This was what heaven felt like; a cold sandwich, some warm breeze, and pure anti-silence. The war was far away, in another mood and emotion. It resided somewhere in the corpse-like darkness of his brain, and as long as he had his candle, it would stay there. The whispering of summer breeze drove away all the wrong worries, and allowed him to focus on the right ones. Like, was there more cheese to make another sandwich? The anti-silence rolled its eyes, and even that trivial concern was pushed away.

Stork realised it was surprisingly easy to relax.


End file.
